DOCTOR, PATIENT, NURSE...OH MY!

Well, it's been a helluva month.  My writing took a backseat as it so often does when I'm overwhelmed and distracted.  I am a most undisciplined writer!  I know the half dozen of you who read this must grow frustrated with me.  LOL

Earlier this month we retuned from our Southeast trip (see last post) and I did another Weekend Intensive for my Yoga teacher training.  Then, on May 15 I drove Hub to a 5:30 a.m. check in at the hospital 30 minutes from where we live to have his total knee replacement surgery, which has been on the horizon for many months.  He was eager to get on with it, anticipating a great outcome and a return to snowboarding by December.

I was a jangle of nerves, full of anxiety about the logistics of getting him there and back, medical anxiety about just having to be in the hospital environment for the day, performance anxiety about whether I could adequately perform the nursing duties I was expected to do post-operatively, and all the attendant "OMG what if he dies on the operating table?" anxiety as outlined in the release forms he signed.

I so admire people who handle these things with ease.  I was mostly short of breath, (fearing my own heart attack), a little light-headed and befuddled (I was momentarily overwhelmed navigating the hospital's vast cafeteria), and made several trips to the restroom to relieve my GI distress.  Classic anxiety attack territory.   I soothed myself by eating the absolutely biggest apple fritter I've ever seen in my life, thus blowing a hole in my Weight Watcher points for the week, but it was an emergency.

Turns out, Hub came through surgery without incident and all went "perfectly" according to the surgeon.  When I got the word, he said I'd be able to see him in about 45 minutes.  I waited, waited, waited...nearly 2 hours passed during which time I imagined all sorts of unexpected post-operative emergencies -- heart attack (he does have that little teeny blockage thing they discovered last summer), blood clot (ample warnings on that one!), stroke.  You name it, I imagined it.  But when I was finally ushered into Recovery, I found him fully dressed, sitting up, sipping a Starbucks.  I was almost mad at him.  The long wait wasn't his fault of course and he was frustrated too, just wanting to go home; it was a "short-staffed" snafu of moving patients through the various post-operative stages.

His surgery began at 7:30 a.m. and by noon we were on our way home.  Son One met us at the house, ready to usher his dad up the stairs of our completely stair-laden home and into bed.  Hub was not having it.  He felt great!  Wanted to navigate the initial stairway from the garage on his own.  He didn't want to continue up the next flight of stairs to the bedroom, which we'd set up as a Long Term Recovery Space with all kinds of pillows, tables, chairs, computer, books, etc etc for him to access during his initial recovery time.  He propped his leg up in the living room and spent the day saying how great he felt.  I think there was residual anesthesia on board which would have made me drowsy and puke-y, but seemed to make him talkative and upbeat.  Weird.

Since that day his recovery has been steady and successful.  We've had visiting nurses here, home physical therapy appointments, adjustments to the realities of recovery vs the anticipation in our imaginations of what it would be like, based on the information the doctor gave us.  Hub is way ahead of schedule in regaining his range of motion and strength, but he works like a fiend on his PT exercises, being highly motivated to be at full strength as soon as possible.

As for my nursing anxiety?  All for naught.  I forgot along the way, that my husband is an "I'll do it" man who prizes self-sufficiency and who, in this case, felt anything he could do for himself would only make him stronger in the long run.  My attempts to "help" were rebuffed for the most part, with my role relegated to fetching ice packs and food.  He even navigated our stairways alone.

This created within me a feeling of being unnecessary and rejected, having mentally prepared and studied the manual sent home with us about post-op care.  I really wasn't needed very much at all and I was sad...and angry to be shut out.  But how can you argue with a man who, as a doctor himself, is dead set on managing his own care and recovery and didn't need my hovering around?  I'm still trying to find the answer to why I grew so resentful of a situation many would envy...I hear tales of caregivers run ragged by the constant demands of their patients!  As with all disagreements, we've talked and talked with neither giving ground, but better to talk than to seethe, so we are pushing on.

Yesterday was his two week post-op appointment and the Medical Assistant we saw (I guess the surgeon will never appear to us again) was most pleased with Hub's progress.  Next on the horizon will be to continue PT, increase walking distances, and regain driving privileges.  None of this was as onerous as I'd imagined it would be.  When will I learn that my anxiety creates scenarios so far from the reality of a situation that it becomes a fiction of the mind?

Turns out that, thankfully, all is well.

At least, that's the view from here...

P.S.  The surgeon texted me photos of the inside of Hub's knee with before and after shots.  Just let me know if you want to see them.  Gross! And fascinating!

HOMEWARD BOUND

I am not generally an eager traveler.  I like my home, my gardens, my friends, family, and familiar routine.  That's not to say I don't also enjoy visiting new places, having new experiences -- I just get a tad grumpy about the actual travel part of traveling (logistics of flights, cars, maps, lodging, food, etc) and dealing with changing landscapes over relatively short periods of time.  I like to settle in.

We are flying home today from a 12 day trip to South Carolina and Georgia.  It all started because we own some timeshare points, purchased in a fit of euphoria over the idea of traveling more after retirement (if not the reality, as it turns out.)  There is some complicated equation for figuring out the timeframe for using said points, and we find we often have some "left over" that we have to use or lose within a certain timeframe.  So, this trip was the result of finding we had extra points to use by year's end and then sitting down and deciding where to go to use them up.  We are frugal enough not to let these slip through our fingers unused!

I have family in Savannah.  My younger brother and his family had moved there from our home area in northern Illinois 13 years ago for his work.  We visited once for my niece's wedding 8 years ago and to celebrate my brother's what we thought was successful cancer treatment.  We went back again a few years later when that ugly cancer returned and claimed my brother's life.  We decided to visit under happier circumstances this time, so planned a visit that would include family time in Savannah, a stay on the Isle of Palms -- a barrier island along the Charleston SC coast where we used to live, then ending with several days on Hilton Head to use those points at a resort on the ocean.

We started on the Isle of Palms, staying in a VRBO home owned by former neighbors with whom we had been best of friends for the two years we lived on the island several lifetimes ago (1980-82).  We've been back a handful of times, so were aware of all the changes to our quiet little island, but this time we were amazed at the oceanfront mansions, expansion of the commercial area, the new "connector" bridge to the mainland that brought traffic and visitors over on a 4-lane highway.  It was no longer the quaint, laid-back burg we'd known.  Progress, I guess.   Still it was beautiful and we enjoyed reminiscing as we walked along the wide sandy beach and paddled a kayak around the Intercoastal Waterway, with a pod of dolphins accompanying us.

A day in the city of Charleston also surprised us with its changes, but the historic area remains gorgeous, the city itself way more cosmopolitan than when we lived there, full of outstanding restaurants and cultural events.

On to Savannah, we stayed in a Historic District hotel, from which we walked and walked, snapping photos of the grand old homes, the River Street tourist walk, and live-oak shaded squares and parks.  That area of Savannah really is beautiful and while we have a soft spot for our old home of Charleston, there is no denying the charms of the Savannah experience.

That said, we are in the Deep South and Civil War statues are not uncommon, with African-American residents sitting nearby on park benches, making me wonder what they must think of these monuments to a time when half the country banded together to fight for the continuation of slavery.  I admit to feeling a bit smug, as a northerner, that "we" won what the south calls "The War of Northern Aggression".

Family time was full of laughter, tears, reminiscing, and watching the Circle of Life unfold as the older generation shared stories and experiences with the next and next generations gathered.  I am sometimes sad that our little family is scattered across the country, but such is life.  Hub and I were the first to leave our Illinois homeland, and as others went their ways, we all said we'd visit each other often, but life, finances, and other priorities make it hard.  When we left, we vowed again to do better.

Today I sit overlooking the pool from our condo, all packed and anticipating being home tonight.  Hilton Head is a bit too Stepford-y for me; a little too planned and perfect.  But this is a beautiful property, a huge 2-bedroom condo, lots to do on site and lots to see and do around the island.  As is our way, we've mostly stayed put right here, taking long beach walks and even going into the warm, silky Atlantic waters so familiar from our time living down here.  Last night we sat on our balcony in the warm evening dusk, eating a big basket of peel and eat shrimp cooked with Old Bay seasoning, and it was like coming home to a time that was a turning point in our lives together.

We could have stayed in South Carolina back then; Hub was offered a job, but in spite of its beauty, our love of the beaches and ocean, there remained many things about the south that were challenging for us.  Some, we note, are still the same; some have changed for the better.  But our decision to head west, to the Seattle area, was the best possible choice for us.  We've made a life there, had careers, raised our family, created home and community that have uplifted and supported us through all of life's trials and joys.  Could that have happened here too?  I don't know.  It would be hard to be "us" here, I think...for sure we'd be in the Progressive Liberal minority!  But it's easy to be us as visitors, to spend time in a place we hold in memory and can still enjoy as travelers.

For now, though, I'm happy to be homeward bound.  Can't wait to get off that plane!

 At least, that's the view from here...©

Photos:  Sunset over the Intercoastal Waterway, Isle of Palms, SC; The Battery Walk, historical area of downtown Charleston, overlooking Charleston Harbor where the first shots of the Civil War were fired by the Confederacy on the Union stronghold at Ft. Sumter; Live Oaks and Spanish moss in Forsythe Park, Savannah; wide sandy beach at our resort on Hilton Head.